


Earth Below Us

by EMILYLAWLESS



Category: Stranger Things (TV 2016)
Genre: Comfort, Established Relationship, Fear of Flying, Fluff, M/M, pure fluff
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2018-05-07
Updated: 2018-05-07
Packaged: 2019-05-03 18:15:16
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 2,521
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/14574762
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/EMILYLAWLESS/pseuds/EMILYLAWLESS
Summary: Billy and Steve are moving to California to start a new life. Only problem is, Billy hates flying.





	Earth Below Us

**Author's Note:**

> I wrote this entire thing on planes. I hate flying so I projected my fear onto Billy. Non-betad. All mistakes my own.

They leave Hawkins on an abnormally warm April day. It’s pushing the high 80s, so hot that Billy had to pack his beloved leather jacket in their shared suitcase and opt for a flimsy shirt—unbuttoned almost to the waist of course. And now he’s a lugging a suitcase out of his house and into the scorching heat, he can feel the sweat starting to collect on his lower back and he’s certain that it’s going to soak through. _How attractive, a sweat patch, Harrington’s just gonna love that._

Max follows him to the door. Neil’s already left for work without so much as a goodbye. After all these years, Billy knows that it’s for the best, they only butt heads. But he can’t help that small part of him that still craves his father’s affection, still wants his father to wrap him up in a hug and give him praise.

“I’m gonna miss you y’know? Both of you,” Max says, standing on the porch. She peers past Billy and notices Steve leaning against the taxi, gives him a shy wave.

It’s weird because around six months ago, Billy and Max barely spoke a word to each other without arguing. And now she’s watching him with tears in her eyes. Billy thinks it’s odd how things can change in a blink of an eye, your entire life twisting on its axis without even really noticing it. He doesn’t want to leave her here, with them, but he doesn’t have a choice.

“You can come and visit anytime Max, I mean that,” is the best that he can offer. She nods, sniffs slightly and rubs water from her eyes. Billy tries to remain cool, calm, collected and fails—he can feel the tears burning up in the corners.

“I know,” she says. “I wish I was coming with you. You guys are gonna have so much fun.”

She’s right. He’s moving with his boyfriend to California, they’re going to have the time of their lives.

“I gotta go Max, I’m sorry.”

She pushes his shoulder, punches his bicep and then he pulls her in for a hug. He kisses the top of her head, wraps his strong arms around her and says, “I’m gonna miss you kid. Love you.”

“Love you too,” she mumbles against his chest.

He pulls back, holds the top of her arms and gives her a wide grin before letting go to drag his bags out to the cab that’s waiting.

Steve’s got the widest smile Billy’s ever seen him wear. Dressed in a striped polo shirt and blue jeans, Billy’s heart clenches in his chest as he walks towards his _boyfriend_. He’ll never get sick of hearing that, or thinking it. After everything they’ve been through—enemies to friends to lovers—he still doesn’t know how he managed to become someone worthy of Steve Harrington.

“Excited?” Steve asks as he takes the suitcase and moves to put it in the back of the cab along with his own luggage.

Billy’s hands are shaking a little and he says, “Shitting myself actually.”

Steve snorts and shakes his head, squeezes one of Billy’s hands inconspicuously and replies, “It’s gonna be okay baby, it’s only a three hour journey.”

“Yeah. Three hours in the fucking sky in a little tin tube, can’t wait,” he moans. He’s never flown before, never wanted to either. If it was up to him they’d be driving all the way to Los Angeles but Steve had convinced him that flying was the better option. Plus they’d both sold their cars for the down payment on their apartment so flying seemed to be the only option.

“You’re gonna love it,” Steve says, letting go of Billy’s hand but standing close. “Once we get up there, you’re gonna wonder what you were so scared of.”

Billy thinks Steve is full of shit but he nods. He wants to lean in and kiss Steve but they aren’t safe here and the last thing they need is an encounter with a potential homophobic cab driver. So instead of leaning in and taking Steve’s lips, he settles on squeezing his hip and giving him a look that he hopes can speak for itself.

“I love you, that’s all that matters,” he says softly as he walks back to the car and opens the rear door.

Inside, the fabric is cool on his back and the driver is playing some dumb pop music that makes Steve smile. Billy waves at Max, watches her out of the back window until they turn the corner and then she’s gone. He settles back into the seat, stops himself from reaching over and grabbing hold of Steve’s hand and squeezing it. He wants a cigarette, needs one so desperately he becomes ridiculously aware of the square shaped packet in his jeans pocket. Steve seems to notice Billy’s anxiety getting the better of him because he starts making small talk to distract him. It doesn’t work, Billy’s hands shake for the entire journey.

 

* * *

 

Billy decides that that airport is a real life hell. Security lines, baggage check in, no sense of time or reality. He hates it. He hates all of the smiling happy holiday makers on their way around the world because they all look so _relaxed_. Like this is completely normal, like airplanes aren’t the most terrifying things to ever exist.

They wait around for what feels like hours because Steve insisted on getting to the airport early. Always the worrier. When they finally get to the gate to board, Billy thinks he’s going to see his lunch again. His palms are sweating as they walk down the suspended corridor and then he sees the door to the plane and that’s it, he’s going to throw up. Steve seems to notice Billy sweating and he pauses, a pretty smile plastered over his face.

“You okay?” He asks, smile turning concerned.

“Fucking—no man, I’m not okay.” His voice is shaky, he’s leaning against the wall and trying to remember some of the calming breathing techniques his mom used to practice for meditation.

“It’s okay baby,” Steve says softly, making sure they aren’t heard. Billy wants to throttle him, if only because he looks so fucking _calm_. And why wouldn’t he? Steve Harrington has flown before, he’s even been to Europe. He’s the epitome of privilege, or at least he was until he’d come out to his parents and been effectively disowned.

“It’s not okay. I can’t fucking do this,” he says, breathing be damned.

“Yes you can,” Steve says forcefully. “You’re getting on the damn plane and we are getting out of this state. We’re going to California and this plane is gonna get us there.”

So _fucking_ calm. Billy wonders for a minute if anything ever really stresses Steve out and then he remembers the nightmares. For all of his laid back cool, a few months ago Steve had been a nervous wreck. He’d scream in his sleep, insist on a night light, curl his body up into Billy’s and shake in the middle of the night. It had taken months to pull him out of that, to convince him that he’s safe in bed and that Billy wouldn’t let any monsters touch him.

Billy thinks about how Steve has protected him too. All but threatened to castrate his dad with the nail bat. Kissed Billy’s bruises and wiped away blood from his cheek. Patched up cuts and whispered _I love you_ in Billy’s ear as they fell asleep together.

“Okay,” he says reluctantly. He’d follow Steve Harrington to the end of the world, he will follow him on this plane to their new home in California.

When they get to the door of the plane smiling flight attendants ask them for their boarding passes and direct them down to their seats. Billy wishes they’d sprung for first class as they walk past passengers who are busy getting comfortable in plush seats and kicking off their shoes. But no, their flying cattle class today and Billy’s knees rub against the chair in front of him. Steve’s got the window seat with Billy on his right. He unpacks a book, _Less Than Zero_ , and his cassette player with headphones. Billy feels like a dumb idiot, or maybe just a broke one because he didn’t pack anything at all.

“You want the book or the music?” Steve asks because of course he does. He always thinks for both of them, especially when Billy is too jacked on anxiety to consider things like in flight entertainment.

“The book,” he says immediately. “I’d rather not spend my final moments listening to Steve Winwood.”

Steve laughs and says, “fuck you,” as he hands Billy the book. Bret Easton Ellis, sounds about as preppy and privileged as Steve Richard Harrington.

“What’s it about?” he asks. Steve rolls his eyes and tells him to read the back so he does.

“Sounds fucking _wild_. Rich boy on the east coast coming home to California, could be the story of your life babe,” he jokes.

“You’ll like it,” Steve says. “It’s really fucked up in parts. They’re making it into a movie I heard.”

Billy thumbs the pages of the book and tries to relax into the stiff seat a little. It’s hard though, with all the people milling around in the aisles and shoving their baggage into the overhead lockers. He thinks that this might be the most on edge he’s ever felt. It’s worse than the first time he’d spent the night at Steve’s and had to go home to face his dad the next morning. He’s so immersed in his fear that it makes the tips of his fingers tingle, his hands sweat and shake and all he really wants to do is interlock them with Steve’s but they can’t.

By a stroke of luck, the seat next to them is vacant and Billy looks around before reaching down and grabbing a hold of Steve’s hand and squeezing it.

“It’s a normal thing to be afraid of,” Steve reassures. “I mean, it’s not like an irrational fear or anything.”

Billy wants to say that all fear is rational, that it’s designed to keep you safe and alive. But he just nods and keeps squeezing as the safety video starts.

If he was feeling bad before, the video does nothing to calm his anxieties. It plays on a screen at the front of the cabin on an old looking TV. Smiling flight attendants talk about what to do in case of emergency. There are oxygen masks and life preservers and the fucking brace position. If anything, it just makes Billy even more convinced that flying equals danger.

When they start taxiing to the runway it takes all of his willpower not to run down the aisle and bang on the doors. He wants to get off, convinced that if he just sits there something bad will happen.

Steve’s got one ear of his Walkman headphones on, happily humming away to some awful pop music that Billy can’t stand.

“You doing okay?” he asks as they go round endless bends.

“Mmhm,” Billy hums. Acting never was his finest skill and Steve can read his face like a book at this point.

“Just try to relax. And you can squeeze my hand as hard as you like. It’s gonna be fine.”

No matter how annoying the words are—like _try to relax_ when there is absolutely no chance of relaxation—he can’t seem to get mad at Steve. It’s funny how Steve is like a cross between Billy’s knight in shining armour and his therapist, and how little Billy seems to mind him being either of those things.

“I love you,” he says quickly as they turn yet another corner. The engines start to roar, it’s almost deafening and Billy squeezes on Steve’s hand so hard he’s certain it’s going to go white.

“I love you too,” Steve says over the noise, eyes big and expressive.

And then they’re hammering down the runway at breakneck speed. The force of the engines pushes Billy back in his seat. He can feel every single bump of the runway and he’s certain that something is going to go wrong. There is absolutely no way that this can end safely.

Suddenly, the bumpy ride gives way to a strange floating feeling. Billy hesitates before sneaking a peak out of the window and _Jesus fucking Christ we’re high up._

Steve’s staring out at the flat fields of Indiana with awe, fingers rubbing Billy’s palm. It’s soothing, it’s exactly what he needs. Then he turns his head to give Billy one of those million dollar smiles and Billy thinks maybe, just _maybe_ this won’t turn into a disaster.

It hits him them, the reality of what they are doing in the tin can shooting across the sky. They’re leaving Indiana. Trading monsters, abusive parents, government conspiracies for sunshine, palm trees and smog. It’s really happening. All of the planning, the saving, the long hours. It was all for this, this journey across America to start a new life.

“You doing okay?” Steve asks, looking at Billy’s smile curiously.

Billy looks past Steve, down at the state that he hated so much when he first arrived. He watches the houses get smaller, the roads turn to thin lines and the fields spread out across the horizons.

“It’s not as bad as I thought,” he says, and he’s not sure if he’s talking about Indiana or the plane ride.

Steve gives him a big grin and starts to settle, pushes his headphones on fully and continues to rub those little circles into Billy’s hand.

There is a strange sense of accomplishment, a type of calm that comes with defying expectations. His dad had told him his entire life that he wasn’t going to accomplish anything. But now, with Steve next to him bopping his head to music, Billy thinks he’s accomplished one of the hardest feats of all. Loving someone. Opening up and letting another human being in. Sharing pain and fear and so much affection. That’s something his dad never had. That’s something his dad could never take away.

They built it, Billy and Steve. They did it together.

And now they’re building something new. A life together on the other side of the country. Billy’s anxiety washes away as he thinks of all the moments ahead. Domesticity. Living together. Curling up on their own couch after a long day at work. TV dinners and beers. The freedom to kiss, to touch, to hold whenever they want.

Billy thinks he’s accomplished more in his 19 years than his dad has in almost 50. And as he looks down on the land that he cursed not two years ago, he’s thankful for every single moment that led him to Steve Harrington.

“I love you,” he says again, quiet this time. Steve can’t hear anything over his music, just keeps tapping his fingers on the tray table and humming. It doesn’t matter. He doesn’t need to hear it, he already knows.


End file.
